Lost amid the accusations
in bars and vague hallways,
he wakes into his troubles
unable to disaggregate
his shadows from the dawn.
Behind him, they trail ribbons
of smoke, curling about his feet
like cats hunting rats,
whenever he stops to think.
From frozen puddles, old friends
and loves rise toward him;
their faces blurred beneath ice.
They then sink away, as quickly,
leaving him to shuffle his fingers
uncomfortably across the steering wheel
as he waits for the light to change.
(July 24, 2019)
from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress
The moon wanes,
as he begins
so many words
He chokes on air.
(May 25, 2019)
From thick decades,
memory emerges, with
miniscule shames and sins,
to taunt and accuse again.
Laced like briars between
raw sinew and bone,
the castigating voice
scratches and pricks.
Unable to forget, thus forgive,
all the awkward trespasses
harbored in memory
claw their way free,
like lizards from eggs,
hungry and ready to feed.
(January 31, 2019)
“Love is the root of everything….Love, or the lack of it.”
— Fred Rogers
like glass resonant in trembled anger
the fear is outrageous and constant
one horrific event erases the next
in an infinite succession of bomb blasts
bludgeoning attention to a bloody slurry
only the noise of the moment matters
and it does not matter even then
but only in the silence it creates in you
the silence of the possibility of dissent
so one must learn to hear without
hearing deafly to see again without
seeing blindly to go with open trust
across the shattered shards of glass
onward into the darkening night
(June 23, 2018)